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Yesterday I went to Myopic Books, a used book store just off the Damen stop on the blue line. Yes, in the heart of Hipster Park. It was nice, cozy, musty, and probably ridden with mold in every corner, just the way I like my used book stores. It reminded me a lot of the Book Loft back in German Village, back in Columbus. It also, surprisingly enough, reminded me of a bookstore in Madrid that only sold books on film. It was glorious.
I purchased:
-The screenplay for The Royal Tenenbaums (it would be a nice guide for my screenwriting class this Fall)
-A book from 1977 about Swedish film (mainly for the design of the front cover, I'll admit)
-A biography on Walt Disney (meh, could contain some interesting little fun facts)
-A book on the cinema of Almodóvar (it's about time, Kimberly)
-A book in Spanish called Guardian Devil (whatevs)
I just re-discovered my old live journal account from the summer between 8th and 9th grade. It's pretty embarrassing/hilarious -- I was pretty much the Michael Scott of adolescent girls.
But what is, perhaps, more entertaining yet harder to read is my old xanga. Definitely more than 9 entries there, and a better example of teenage angst/attempts at songwriting/obsession with The White Stripes.
I've lately been feeling nostalgic for my early high school years. I still believe it was the second most hellish period of my life, but, yeah, you know. I also checked out my old myspace. I had some pretty interesting photos on there, such as this one:
Still so proud of it.
My need to write on blogs comes in waves.
This summer has been kind of a dud, except for a few pockets of fun times here and there. People kept telling me over the school year, "Oh yeah, you GOTTA spend at least ONE summer in the city." Yeah. Probably so I could have some material for a depressing yet brilliant masterwork of art (of a medium yet to be determined.) Everyone has been in their hometowns, doing... hometown stuff. I've been here, gettin' credits and persuading my brother to buy me copious amounts of booze whenever he visits. I really need to get a fake.
A part of me wants to have a Mad Men party for the season premiere this Sunday. Smoke cigars, dress nicely, drink man drinks. Sounds like a fantastic idea.
Anyway, I went to my new dermatologist yesterday. She has a super thick German accent. It. Is. Awesome. But apparently I have eczema, so I'm being put on a special diet. Must avoid: Citrus fruit, tomatoes, sugar, white flour, caffeine, or cow's milk. I also can't use hair conditioner, get overheated, or wear polyester. Not to mention I have to take a shit ton of dietary supplements and use this super fancy ointment that probably comes from deep within the Amazon rain forest. If the 2.5 of you who read this blog are still reading, I salute your patience. This paragraph makes me sound like a smelly old lady.
But anyways, I'm back and I'm ramblin'.
